


Cold Blooded

by anajoyy



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: But whatever, F/F, I'm bad at this, Throne of Glass, it's kinda bad, malide - Freeform, ok, originally published on ff.n, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 18:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10168898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anajoyy/pseuds/anajoyy
Summary: I could write an interesting summary here... or I could explain to you that I originally published this on fan fiction.net (anaashryver) but for all you people who don't really use it I'm uploading it here!





	1. Defiance

Manon gave her hands a quick shake, watching as the blue blood dripped down her iron nails.

“Manon, us witches do not grieve over the dead. Throw her out for the wyverns to have.” The Blackbeak Matron’s voice was like sandpaper in Manon’s ears, and she handed the body to one of the other Blackbeaks from another coven. She stood there, in the center of the room silently before noticing what she’d have to do. Clenching her jaw and releasing it, Manon licked the blue blood from her fingers, and she couldn’t help thinking that it could have been Asterin’s, or Sorrel’s, or Elide’s.

_Elide._

She couldn’t help but wonder if Elide had made it to Terrasen, if she’d seen the queen and spoken to her. But she couldn’t focus on that—her grandmother would not let her see the end of it if she blanked out during an execution.

“For her wrongdoings, Ilegia Blackbeak became less than a witch, less than a human. She failed her duty to provide younglings that survived, and, for that, she paid.” Manon spoke brashly, trying not to think about how Asterin had the exact same story. A flash of Asterin’s smooth, muscled torso and the burn there entered Manon’s mind, and she blinked hard and didn’t open them for a while. The crowd around her had began to scatter, and Manon hoped she’d be able to go back to her rooms for only a while before she had to train with The Thirteen.

She had already made it to the top of the stairs when her grandmother’s voice invaded her space.

“Manon. What happened today was unacceptable. What do you think the Yellowlegs thought, that the heir to the Blackbeak clan could not even kill a witch with pride.” Her voice was lethal, and the short woman approached her, their faces so close together that she could smell the blood on the Matron’s breath. Manon kept her mouth shut, knowing doing otherwise would be a fool’s mistake.

“You are a disgrace to the clan. You chose the runt of the Wyverns, you saved the Bluebood’s heir, and you chose to save a human slave girl from Morath when it was burning? You are weak. You do not respect the values of the Ironteeth Witches.” The old woman spat in Manon’s face, and she refrained from flinching. Manon was well aware that she could kill her grandmother at any time—she had started to weaken, physically, and would not last in any actual not fight me about it.

Manon braced herself for her grandmother’s slap, though, knowing putting up with her would mean she wouldn’t have to face the repercussions of her acts—she couldn’t act based solely on instinct. When the matron’s hand came in contact with Manon’s face, she kept her eyes diverted, resuming her normal position after her grandmother put her hand down.

“Go.” Was the only word her grandmother told Manon, and she continued to walk up the stairs until finally getting to her rooms. She opened the door and walked in, sitting on the bed and staring off into nothing until she heard three knocks at her door. Stepping back into reality, Manon sniffed and caught Asterin’s scent.

“Come in.” Manon spoke, though not expecting her. Her Second, who had been promoted to her original position after the incidents in Morath, stepped through the door, in an outfit that was strikingly casual, even for Asterin. She had on only a thin white shirt and beige trousers. Manon looked up from her spot on the bed, straightening her posture slightly.

“Manon, there’s something I need to tell you.” Asterin spoke, like a soldier addressing her general. Manon stood in an instant.

“What is it?” Manon demanded.

“It’s your grandmother. She’s… you know what she has against me. She approached me and said that I’d be next, that I’d be the next one whose blood was shed on the marble floor, and that she’d have you be the one to do it.” Asterin said, and Manon felt her temper begin to rise. Carefully, she took a deep breath out.

“What.” In another time, Manon could have phrased this as a question, but she understood fully. She stepped around Asterin quickly, walking to her grandmother’s office. This was the last straw.

Not bothering to knock, she opened the door, knowing her grandmother had probably scented her fury already.

“You are not going to kill my Second.” Manon seethed, and her grandmother turned to her, her face devoid of all color.

“We need heirs. And we need to set examples for those witches that can become impregnated, and they need to know that anything other than a healthy witchling will be acceptable.” 

“No one knew about Asterin’s pregnancy except for Sorrel and you. In what way is that an example for other witches if they didn’t even _know_ she was pregnant in the first place?” Manon was getting closer to her grandmother, and she felt her iron fangs slide into place and her claws come out.

“Asterin is valuable. Asterin is the Second to the most powerful witch clan, one of the best witches there is, and you expect that I’ll let you kill her. You know, sometimes I think that you forget I inherit the clan after you. I will be the Matron of the Blackbeak witches, therefore I do have a part in this decision making.” Manon began to realize that she had been piercing her grandmother’s skin with her iron nails, and blood ran down her fingers.

Her grandmother raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”


	2. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> that's all, folks

“Will you be joining me?” Manon asked the blonde-haired witch in front of her as she began hastily changing into flying armor.

“Joining you in what?” Asterin asked, still confused as to why Manon had came back seething after leaving in such a haste.

“I’m leaving. I’m going to Terrasen.” Manon tied her white hair up, seriously contemplating shaving it all off because of how much it got in the way.

“Manon, what do you mean? You know Mother Blackbeak will murder you if you do this.” Asterin questioned, looking at the Wing Leader like she was crazy.

“She won’t. According to her, I will be flying down to Adarlan to see how Rifthold and the other cities survived the… well, survived the queen’s wrath. But we cannot take our wyverns—there will be too much upkeep, and Terrasen might not have the necessary supplies for them. Who knows what’s going on up there?” Manon more clothes into an already-full pack and, with a flick of her wrist, it vanished into thin air. She took a second to lavish in the fact that she had magic back and she wouldn’t have to fly on her broom with her heavy leather pack.

Manon expected Asterin to fight for a little longer before giving in, but she just smiled her harsh, wicked, smile.

“I’ve been meaning to try out my old broomstick.” 

-

-

Manon opened the doors that had not been touched in over 20 years, and looked in front of her to the rows and rows of broomsticks, each one marked with which clan the owner belonged to and their color.

She walked up to the one she knew was hers, that was bonded to hers, and took it in her hands, a low sigh escaping her. She heard Asterin do the same.

“Let’s go.” Manon said, and Asterin kept her fiery, wild smile on her lips while following Manon out.

They each mounted the brooms, and Manon felt the protective sense slip over her eyes. She blinked a few times to get adjusted to the extra layer before laughing loud enough for the wyverns in their holding to hear and, in an instant, she was in the air.

The brooms were so much faster than the wyverns, they defied time itself. They would be in Terrasen in less than an hour.

Asterin sped up slightly to where she was flying right next to Manon, her long golden hair flowing in the wind. 

“This is amazing.” Asterin’s voice was nearly a whisper compared to the roaring wind, but Manon grinned back.

“Do you plan to find Elide?” Asterin asked, her voice louder now.

Manon had not thought about that. She really hoped Elide had found her way to Terrasen by now, and was safe with the queen and her court. She nodded, deciding that the first thing that she’d do in Terrasen was find Elide and make sure she was safe—and then what? Would she bring her back with her after talking to the queen? Manon didn’t know if she’d be willing to be in another war again, and what was coming amongst the Blackbeaks was nothing short of a battle. Manon _had_ to get rid of her grandmother, had to try to convince the other Matrons and clans that the old laws were for primal, cruel, beasts, and that’s not what witches were. They were elegantly brutal, wholly powerful, and should act on fact and not instinct. 

She spent the rest of the flight like that, looking down to the mountains and trees and spending her time thinking about the future of the Ironteeth witches.

-

-

Elide Lochan shivered with the next gust of cold wind that brushed against her. Terrasen was as beautiful as she’d remembered it, but so gods-damned cold, and barren. No one seemed to be anywhere, and even after two weeks of wandering, she hadn’t encountered a single soul. She knew that she was near Orynth, could begin to recall the route she’d taken out, and began to be comforted by the fact.

She still hadn’t encountered the “Celaena Sardothien” Kaltain had told her about, and, by this time, she suspected she was probably a lady of Aelin’s court that she’d encounter once she found the pa— 

_What in the hell?_

Above her, two figures flew through the sky on sticks that looked awfully like… _broomsticks_.

_Manon._

She was probably with her Second, and they were probably headed to the palace. She would expect Elide to be there, and she’d probably bring her back to wherever the witches were staying now.

Grabbing what little things she had brought with her, Elide kept her eyes on the sky and began to sprint in the way that the two witches were going. Over the past month, her ankle had began to heal, and, although it wasn’t completely back to normal, tasks like running and walking weren’t difficult to her.

“Manon!” Elide called in her raspy, unused voice. The two witches didn’t stop, only kept continuing in the direction of the palace.

“Manon!” Elide called again, louder, with her face pointed to the sky and her legs working hard to try to at least stay within earshot of the witches. She knew that Manon probably had a better sense of hearing, sight, and smell since magic returned to Adarlan, but Elide wished that she herself could have more speed because of whatever little witch blood she had in her. 

Elide continued to scream the Wing Leader’s name until she saw the broomsticks halt in the sky and began to descend. Elide ran even faster, her ankle beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable and her lungs struggling to keep up with her breaths. She could now see the general colors that Manon seemed to always have: the white of her hair, red of her cloak, and black of her clothes. Elide slowed into a jog then, knowing her and Manon would cross paths as long as she continued.

“Manon…” Elide was out of breath, but still refused to give up. The broomsticks hit the grass before Manon and who she supposed was Asterin did. Manon jumped from her position and began to run in Elide’s direction, who was now walking slowly to her, in a slight haze. She never thought that she’d see Manon again.

Over the past month or so, Elide hadn’t really been keeping track of time very well, Manon had seemed to have matured, but also soften a bit, if that was possible. She didn’t really care, couldn’t even think properly aside from the fact that Manon, the kind, beautiful witch was here for her.

For a second, Elide thought that Manon would have hugged her right there, in front of her Second. It was probably because the Manon she was looking at then had more of an air of compassion than the one she’d first seen in Morath. Maybe it was just for Elide, or maybe it was in general.

“Elide.” Manon seemed slightly dazed, but concerned. “Elide, why haven’t you gotten to the palace yet? Did something happen along the way? Do you need help?” Manon’s pale hands grasped Elide’s forearms tightly, as if checking to see that she was real.

 _To hell with it_ , Elide thought.

She wrapped her arms around Manon’s shoulders and breathed in deeply, smelling her scent and sighing.

“I didn’t think that I’d see you again.” Elide breathed into Manon’s shoulder.

The witch pulled away with a smirk, a single hand still on Elide’s waist. Something flashed through her eyes quickly, and the hand was gone, replaced with a sly smirk.

“I don’t leave people of my kind alone. Of course I’d come and check on you.” Manon took the hood of her coat down, and Elide watched as the protective lens slid off of Manon’s golden eyes. She kept her hands at her sides in fists to resist hugging Manon again.

“Are we going to go see the palace—the queen and her court?” Elide asked, still rather anxious to see how her old friend Aelin was doing, and what Aedion was up to. She prayed to Mala that they were both still alive.

“Where else would we go?” Manon held out a hand, summoning her broomsticks, then turning to Elide with a smile. 

“Come on.”


End file.
